


a beacon in the night

by ruffboi



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Can Be Shippy If You Want It To Be, Fluff, Gen, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:40:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28520289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruffboi/pseuds/ruffboi
Summary: The winter solstice at Kaer Morhen is loud, warm, and companionable. Eskel's first year on the Path has him anticipating a solstice that is silent, cold, and lonely.Geralt has other plans.
Relationships: Eskel & Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Comments: 14
Kudos: 41
Collections: The Witcher Flash Fic Challenge: Secret Santa (TWFFSS20)





	a beacon in the night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lunacosas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacosas/gifts).



> This is up a bit late, but hopefully the softness will make up for it. :) Happy Winter, Luna!
> 
> Title from "Winter Song" by Sara Bareilles and Ingrid Michaelson.
> 
> Written for the Witcher Flash Fic Secret Santa.

The winter solstice in Kaer Morhen was a noteworthy event. It would usually start and end solemnly, remembering those they'd lost since the last solstice in the evening as the light faded, and silently looking to the sunrise (and hope) as the dawn broke. But in between the early grief and the solemnity of the sunrise, the winter solstice was a bright light in the darkness of the Morhen valley where even the trainees got to play and laugh and make their own joy. It was one of the things that made the cold darkness of winter in the mountains survivable.

Eskel's first year on the path, struggling to scrape by through the harsh winter, he found himself missing Kaer Morhen desperately as the solstice approached. There would be no celebration for him this year, though he would still sit the vigil. There would be no bonfire, no singing, no stories shared, no boys stealing drinks and grown witchers pretending not to notice.

There would be no Geralt.

And, as the afternoon before the solstice arrived, Eskel accepted with reluctance the fact that there would be no roof over his head, either. Apparently the locals were none too keen to deal with witchers on such a long night, and even his politest request to bunk in a barn or a stable had been rebuffed. This was an increasingly familiar experience since spring, but especially since the nights grew longer and the autumn chill started to seep into the world. People - _humans_ \- wanted protection from monsters, but they didn't want to face the tool they'd created in their quest for that safety.

That wasn't fair, Eskel knew. None of the humans alive today could probably remember the names of their family from that far back, unless they were noble and those things were tracked obsessively. But still... Witchers were once human. They existed solely to protect people from the monsters of the world. It seemed unfair that they should be so disliked for doing what they were created to do for the benefit of the very ones who hated them.

(Eskel ached at the thought of how difficult Geralt must be having. Eskel was charming and personable and handsome aside from his witcher's eyes. _He_ found Geralt handsome as anything, as did a number of older boys back in Kaer Morhen, but his white hair and pale skin was likely to be a bit off-putting to the average human. Not to mention Geralt's aversion to social niceties and his days when speaking was an effort. If Eskel was struggling this much, he hated to think that his brother was struggling even more, alone, on the longest night of the year.)

Two hours outside of the township he'd been turned away from, Eskel came across the right kind of terrain for plentiful caves, and managed to locate one with relative ease that had clearly been used by travelers in the past, judging by the faint scent of _horse_ and _human_ and the scorched remnants of a campfire on the stone just inside the mouth of the cave. It's a relief, really - if it's comfortable enough for humans to weather and survive the elements in, a witcher should have no problem. He gathered as much wood as he could carry, enough that hopefully he could even leave some behind for the next weary traveler, and settled in to wait for sunset and the lighting of his meager fire for the long, lonely vigil through the longest night.

The sun was less than an hour from setting when Eskel heard the sound of someone trudging through the snow and underbrush. He'd been winding down, trying to center himself a bit and ready himself for the night-long vigil and the next day's exhaustion, but now, if some traveler was hoping to find a safe resting place in this cave... well, it would still be safe. Eskel would make sure of it. But it wouldn't be _comfortable_ for either of them, most likely.

But then. But _then_.

"Eskel?" a voice rumbled out of the woods as the footsteps approached, and Eskel's heart leapt in his chest as a figure pushed its way into the clearing in front of the cave.

Geralt was thinner than he'd been in the spring when they'd set out from Kaer Morhen, but so was Eskel really. No yearling witcher came back from his stint alone on the Path as healthy and well-fed as he'd left. Still, it made something twist in Eskel's chest to see him look so underfed.

He let that be his excuse for shoving himself to his feet and all but flinging himself into Geralt's arms; like a wolf snuffling over a packmate after being separated to assess that they weren't injured or sick, instead of just desperate for the sincere affection he knew Geralt would give him. Thankfully, it seemed like Geralt had much the same idea, as their tight embrace changed to both of them looking each other over.

"What're you _doing_ here, Wolf?" Eskel asked with a rough voice. Geralt ducked his head like he always did when he was caught doing something kind and was embarrassed to be noticed for it.

"Thought it'd be lonely," he said with a little shrug. "No rule we can't spend the solstice together."

Eskel huffed a laugh and scruffed Geralt, pressing their foreheads together, their breath mingling between them.

"I missed you," he told Geralt, his voice soft enough to avoid being overheard if they'd been in Kaer Morhen. "I missed you so fucking much."

"Me too," Geralt replied, bringing his hand up to scruff Eskel in return. They stood there for a long moment, fingers tangled in each other's hair, breath warming each other's faces. "C'mon, let's build the bonfire."

"You think we've got enough wood for an all-night bonfire?" Eskel asked as they both straightened, his smile unwavering and inextinguishable.

"Well, it'll probably be a very small bonfire," Geralt admitted solemnly as he moved into the cave to shuck his pack and swords. "Campfire sized, probably."

"Hmm," Eskel hummed. "Maybe a bit bigger. It's the solstice, after all."

It wasn't a Kaer Morhen solstice. There was just the two of them, no echoing laughter, no warm furs and roaring fires with the wind only whistling outside and not around them, pressed against each other's sides against the chill of the long night.

But there _were_ stories, and comfort in the darkness, and they remembered those they'd lost in years past, and when the sun rose, Eskel greeted the sun holding Geralt's hand. Tomorrow they would go their separate ways and it would be months at least before they'd see each other again. They'd return to the world and the cruelty of humans and the uncertainty of the Path.

But here and now they had each other, in the crystalized stillness of the dawn, and Eskel was happy.


End file.
